


To Gift the Impossible

by Cade Welentine (cadewelentine)



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/F, Gen, M/M, Welcome to Night Vale Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 04:40:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5729854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadewelentine/pseuds/Cade%20Welentine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Night Vale PTA Winter Solstice Secret Gift Exchange!</p>
<p>Giftee Assignments: December 2nd 7:00pm in the Night Vale Elementary Gym</p>
<p>Gift Exchange: December 25th 5:00pm in Grove Park</p>
<p>Your Participation is Appreciated and Mandatory.</p>
<p>Come Celebrate the Holidays with All Your Friends, Neighbors, and Friendly All-Powerful Government!</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Gift the Impossible

_Night Vale PTA Winter Solstice Secret Gift Exchange!_

_Giftee Assignments: December 2nd 7:00pm in the Night Vale Elementary Gym_

_Gift Exchange: December 25th 5:00pm in Grove Park_

_Your Participation is Appreciated and Mandatory._

_Come Celebrate the Holidays with All Your Friends, Neighbors, and Friendly All-Powerful Government!_

 

* * *

**November 25th**

Michelle tore the flyer off the door of Dark Owl Records. PTA organized fundraisers were so two seconds ago, and she couldn’t bear the thought of her shop being associated with something so chronically uncool. She crumpled the sheet of paper into a ball, which she then tossed in the direction of a distant noise of protest- probably from a Sheriff’s Secret Police officer who objected to her removing notices of vital information from the public view.

She didn’t understand what the big deal was; everything got announced on the radio anyway, so it wasn’t as if people _wouldn’t_ get the information. And besides, so few people were cool enough to come near her store, so it wasn’t as if it was a place with a lot of foot traffic where notices would be widely seen.

It wasn’t as if it was her choice to be so hip that others couldn’t come near her, of course. In fact, she found her existence to be rather lonely. It was an unfortunate by-product of her endeavors to remain as cool as humanly- or, if at all possible,  _inhumanly_ \- possible.

Michelle sighed and turned her key in the lock, pushing the door open. She shut it behind herself and pocketed the key before shrugging off her jacket and stashing it behind the counter. She crossed back to the door, turning the sign from “closed” to “open” with the proper chanting and ritual dancing, wondering if opening the shop would even make a difference in her loneliness today.

* * *

 

**December 2nd, approximately 7pm**

Maureen pulled her beanie down over her ears, thinking it was much too cold in this gym. It seemed as though the elementary school hadn’t gotten the memo that the weather in Night Vale was changing, and it wasn’t necessary for them to have the air conditioning up full blast.

“Some weather we’re having, huh?” Steve Carlsberg slid into the seat beside Maureen with his usual friendly guffaw. Steve was not Maureen’s favorite person- she didn’t understand how anyone could be so damn _cheerful_ all the time- but she certainly didn’t carry the same disdain for him that her supervisor, the local radio host, did.

“Yeah,” she nodded in agreement, pulling her loose cardigan closed.

“You know, I heard that our little desert town might be getting its first ever white Christma- I mean- _solstice_!” Steve grinned. “Can you believe it? Snow! Here in Night Vale!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, _Steve Carlsberg_ ,” hissed the too-familiar voice of Cecil Palmer over Maureen’s shoulder. She was startled and jumped a bit, smacking her hand against the metal bleacher behind her. “We’re not going to get snow. It’s not scientific.”

“Really?” Steve asked. “What did Carlos say about it? Is he here? I’d like to discuss it with him.”

“You leave my Carlos alone, Steve, he doesn’t need to get mixed up with the likes of you.” Cecil huffed.

“It’s so sweet how you always look out for his safety, Cecil,” Steve smiled, spinning it to the positive. “You know, you’d make a great dad.”

There is was. Exactly what Maureen disliked about Steve. He was so un-Night Valean. He always looked on the bright side. He was always nice to people, despite how awful people might have been to him. It seemed wrong, somehow, to be like that.

Cecil was on the verge of yelling, Maureen could tell. She’d seen that face a few times, when Steve dropped by the station unexpectedly, or when the coffee pot was empty and the emptier had neglected to start a new pot. She shrunk back as far as she could; she didn’t want to be in Cecil’s warpath if Steve managed to set him off.

Luckily, Abby called Steve back over to where she’d saved them seats, and Steve, like the dutiful husband he was, had bounded over to her immediately. Maureen could practically feel the tension dissipate. Cecil plopped down beside her.

“Ugh, that Steve, right?” he grumbled. “Anyway, do you want to go to the mall on Saturday and look for gifts for our giftees?”

Maureen blinked at him. He was her boss, and he was inviting her to hang out at the mall with him. Was this really what her life had come to? Did she really have so few friends that she was friends with her boss?

She nodded, “Uh, sure.”

 

* * *

**December 2nd, approximately 7:30pm**

“ _Steve Carlsberg_?! I got _Steve Carlsberg_?!” Cecil screeched staring down at the name printed in neat, red lettering on the card he had drawn from the ceremonial solstice bucket.

The hooded figure holding the bucket shushed him, and glanced nervously in Steve’s direction, as if trying to see if the man had heard Cecil’s hollering. Steve was too busy chattering away to notice much of anything.

“You have to let me redraw,” Cecil said, trying to slip his card back in the bucket. The hooded figure yanked it away, making a buzzing noise that clearly meant “No redraws.”

“Right.” Cecil said, bowing his head slightly. “Sorry.”

“It’s not that bad, Cecil,” Maureen offered. “I mean, I know you hate him, but at least he’s easy to shop for; he loves everything!”

“I guess that’s true,” Cecil sighed dejectedly. “Who did you get?”

“Michelle Nguyen.” Maureen said miserably, looking down at her own card. “The hardest person to shop for imaginable.”

“Well, luckily, you’re shopping with me.” Cecil said. “I’m hip as _heck_.”

“Uh…” Maureen said, taking in her boss’ outfit of the day- a black turtleneck with a red hawaiian shirt over it and an electric blue miniskirt paired with mismatched Crocs. “Yeah…”

* * *

**December 11th**

“You know what would be nice?” Maureen asked, setting a coffee mug down in front Cecil’s sleepy face in the recording booth a little over a week later.

They’d gone shopping a few days before, and while Maureen had found something that could possibly be acceptable to Michelle (a pair of electric blue wrist warmers with a matching portable phonograph), Cecil had failed to find anything for Steve. At least that’s what he claimed. What Maureen thought was a bit closer to the truth was that he didn’t want to put any actual effort into finding a gift for his brother-in-law, and so he hadn’t.

“What?” Cecil yawned, wrapping his hands around the steaming mug.

“If you got Steve something he and Janice, and maybe Abby, could all do together.” Maureen suggested.

“Why?” Cecil asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Because he loves them and would probably like something that would let them spend more time together.” Maureen explained, trying not to add an obnoxious comment like “duh” or “stupid” to the end of it, though she thought it.

* * *

 

**December 25th**

Michelle had barely even glanced at her slip of paper. She already knew what whoever it was (Roger Harlan) was getting; it would be a CD that wasn’t cool enough for her anymore, but that would still be considered cool to whoever received it.

She had already taken the liberty of wrapping it in silvery, metallic paper (because that would never go out of style). She stuck the card she had drawn on top, securing it with a hearty layer of invisible tape. It sat on the counter of Dark Owl Records.

She glanced out the shop window, where she could see people gathering in Grove Park. Everyone was milling about excitedly, their thoughts abuzz with the thoughts of the gifts they might receive in a just few short moments. No one seemed to pay any mind to the light gray clouds that hovered above, almost blocking the Glow Cloud’s (ALL HAIL) view.

Michelle didn’t like the look of those clouds.

She took a peek at the wall clock, trying to decide what time she could show up that would be considered “fashionably late” enough that she would be cooler and more fashionable than everyone else.

The little bell that hung at the top of the door tinkled, and Michelle whipped her head back around to see the person who had entered the shop.

It was Intern Maureen.

“Hi,” Maureen said, a neatly wrapped gift in one hand, the other hand rubbing up and down her arm. “I hope you don’t mind that I stopped in; it’s freezing out there, and you’re the only business that’s still open.”

“Oh, no,” Michelle said quickly. “It’s fine. Totally fine.”

“Uh, great!” Maureen smiled. “Oh, and since I’m here with you already…” She held the gift out to Michelle.

“I know the exchange technically hasn’t started yet,” Maureen began nervously, watching Michelle feel for an edge in the wrapping paper. “But I figured you’d be okay with fudging a little paperwork. And uh, I tried to get you something cool, but I’m not sure it’s cool _enough_ so, you know, if you don’t like it, I can take it back and get you something else. It’s not a big deal.”

Michelle was staring at the unwrapped gifts on the counter. Sure, they weren’t what she would have picked for herself in a thousand years, but Maureen had put actual time and effort into finding them.

“Do you not like them?” Maureen asked, her hands already in her pockets, searching for receipts.

“I love them!” Michelle cried, jumping over the counter, her arms wrapping around Maureen’s shoulders. “The little phonograph, it’s perfect! And the fact that the hand warmers match? So practical!”

Maureen visibly relaxed, “Oh, I’m so glad you like you like them.”

“Thank you.” Michelle said, pulling back from the hug. “I mean it.”

“Uh, look,” Maureen said, shuffling her feet. “I dunno what you’re doing tonight, but I’m legally dead to my family, so if you wanted to come over after the exchange I-”

“I would love to.” Michelle said, a genuine smile on her face for the first time in a very long time. “I’ll bring the music.”

“It’s a date then,” Maureen grinned. “Or, not a date but-”

“It’s a date.” Michelle agreed. She moved in for another hug, but the bell atop the door rang again, and suddenly the whole town began to pour into her store, led by none other than Cecil Palmer himself.

“You two won’t believe it,” Cecil said. “It just started snowing! In the middle of _our_ friendly desert community! Maureen, you have to go out and investigate.”

“But, I-” Maureen started.

“Cecil it’s Christm- I mean, the Solstice Gift Exchange,” Michelle cut in. “Your Intern isn’t going anywhere.”

Cecil rolled his eyes, muttering something about hipsters and walking off.

“Thank you.” Maureen said, laughing through her nose.

 

* * *

**December 25th**

“Here, Steve, this is for you,” Cecil said, shoving a hastily wrapped gift into his brother in-law’s hands.

“Really, you couldn’t do better than that?” Abby asked, wrinkling her nose at the newspaper clad present.

“It’s not what’s on the outside, sister dear,” Cecil said. “It’s about what’s on the _inside_. Go ahead, Steve Carlsberg, open it.”

Steve opened presents like a toddler, tearing into the paper with reckless abandon. Underneath the newsprint was a white box. Within the white box was a white envelope. (“It’s like one of those Nulgorsk Nesting Dolls!” “Just open the gift, Steve.”) And inside the white envelope were three tickets to the New Old Night Vale Opera House’s next production.

“There’s one for you, one for Abby, and one for Janice.” Cecil explained. “I thought you could all go together. It was all my idea. Totally mine.” Maureen, who could hear the radio host from her position by the checkout counter, rolled her eyes.

“Cecil, this is great!” Steve grinned a big, dopey grin. “Janice loves the opera!”

“Yes,” Cecil said. “I know.”

Steve surged forward, capturing his brother-in-law in one of his famously tight hugs.

“Thank you, Cecil,” he said, his voice muffled against Cecil’s body. “I know we don’t always get along, but you really are the best double brother a guy  could ask for.”

“And you, Steve,” Cecil started. “Are not terrible.”


End file.
